"He is not well."
"Not well? How is that?" he asked with parental concern that sounded sweet to her unaccustomed ears.
"He pines for his father," she replied falteringly.
"Tell him how he has laid a curse not only on the child but also on his parents," broke in the swami unable to keep silence. "The curse will extend to his wife as well, if she fails to draw him back from his evil ways."
She looked from one to the other, trembling under the stern eye of the swami.
"Husband will you not return to us? The big father pines for a sight of his son. The old eyes are blind through tears. The child——!" she stopped unable to command her voice. "Husband!" she continued. "Your wife more than all pines also. The day is long and weary without you. The night is unbearable in its misery. Will you not come to us, our lord and master?"
She held out her arms, and again he would have clasped her to himself; but in accordance with instructions given by no less a person than the swami himself she drew back; and the guru by a slight movement glided in between them.
"The reward is ready and waits with impatience," said the swami, his lips parting for a moment and showing the white teeth in a smile that was not born of kindness or pity. "But you are not ready for the reward."
Ananda ignored the speech and continued to address Dorama with increasing emotion.
"Come? Will I not come? Beloved, I will come! I am ready; I have been waiting till my heart was sick with longing. Wife!" he cried passionately, "I claim you as my own unconditionally. I command you to join me. Come willingly if you can; but willing or unwilling I shall not cease trying to regain my rights."